


The Masks We Wear

by noxsoulmate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1., 2., Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternative Universe - Era of Louis XIV of France, Before the Spring Snaps - Disney, Challenge response to:, F/M, Facebook: Hermione's Nook, Facebook: The Fairest of the Rare, Hurt/Comfort, I tried to squeeze a slow burn into 10K words, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Man in the iron mask, Siriusly Amazing Writing Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxsoulmate/pseuds/noxsoulmate
Summary: In 1660, the Kingdom of France faces bankruptcy due to King Fabian XIV's extravagant lifestyle. While his subjects are starving, the King plans wars and pompous banquets. In one last attempt to prevent a bloody revolution, the legendary Marauders, once the greatest Musketeers of their time, as well as Hermione and her friends, prepare for a mission that will either cost them their lives or will bring peace to their country. Key to their plan is a young man who spent the past six years in prison: the Man in the Iron Mask.





	The Masks We Wear

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheFairestOfTheRare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFairestOfTheRare/pseuds/TheFairestOfTheRare) in the [BTSS2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BTSS2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> _Man in the Iron Mask_  
>   
> 
> Once again, I found a way to write a Hermione/Gideon fic 😁 a big thanks to the admins from the Facebook group **The Fairest of the Rare** for hosting this fest. And for being obliging when it comes to the 10K word limit 😅
> 
> I was also allowed to combine this fest fic with another challenge, the Siriusly Amazing Writing Challenge hosted in the Facebook group **Hermione's Nook**. Here we are given short prompts to be added in fics. I have underlined the respective ones. The little snippets were actually quite helpful, so a big thanks to the admins of both groups to allow this merge <3

****

 

#  **The Masks We Wear**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**_France, 1660_ **

The medallion clinked softly as Hermione fiddled with it. Her gaze wandered to the horizon again, not accepting that it was still too dark to see anything. Taking a deep breath, she let go of the medallion and wrung her hands instead, then brushed some non-existent wrinkles off her dress.

“Will you please calm down?”

Harry’s voice cut through the silence, causing Hermione to turn her gaze away from the window and towards her dear friend.

“How are you so calm?” she asked impatiently. “Aren’t you even a _little_ nervous?”

Instead of answering right away, Harry crossed the room and took her in his arms.

“Everything will be alright. You know they are the best. They have done things like this before.”

“Oh, really?” Hermione replied sarcastically. “You mean they’ve broken into prison before, to free a man who - for some reason - is supposed to aid us in getting rid of the king?”

“Well, I’m not sure about the last part. The rest, however...”

“Oh, shush.”

A slight smack to Harry’s chest had him chuckling. They both knew the stories of James, Sirius, and Remus - who didn’t? They were famous amongst the Musketeers; some called them the Marauders because back in their glory days, they always seemed to be everywhere, always the center of trouble. And yet, they were the most loyal men a king could have ever wished for.

That was, until Fabian XIV, King of France, began to show his real face.

A tiny light in the distance caught their attention. Dawn was breaking, yet the single dancing light quickly coming closer still stood out.

“That must be them. Alert the house,” Hermione ordered as she rushed from Harry’s embrace and down the stairs.

Taking a candle from the table, she hurried outside. From this point of view, she wasn’t able to see the carriage as it drew nearer, but it wasn’t long until she could hear it. As she waited, somewhat patiently, Harry appeared next to her, followed by both Luna and her father Xenophilius. The owner of the estate which they would call home for the next few weeks. The Lovegood family was loyal to France - the country, not the crown. This was the reason for why they were among the first to follow the Marauders in their endeavour to dethrone the king. They thought Fabian was a disgrace to the crown and the royal name of Prewett.

It didn’t take long for the carriage to stop in front of them, the gust of wind almost blowing out Hermione’s candle. As Sirius jumped off the coachman's seat, Harry stepped forward to open the door. All she could see were shadowy figures until James’ face caught in the light as he stepped out. He was followed by Remus, who took the lantern from Sirius. Keeping her own candle up, Hermione did not take her eyes from the door.

At last, a figure in a dark cloak emerged. By the way he moved, she was sure it was a young man, possibly Harry’s and her own age, more so than the Marauders'. His face was hidden by the cloak’s hood - or so she thought. As he moved his head towards the light of her candle, Hermione had to suppress a gasp.

Instead of skin, she was looking at a mask of iron, beaten so roughly it swallowed the light, not reflecting it even in the slightest.

It wasn’t the mask though, that kept her gaze locked on the man. It was his eyes.

Only when he closed them and turned his head did she realise she had been staring. How rude of her. By his reaction, he must have thought she was staring because of his mask and it had hurt him, his eyes were telling her as much.

Before she could apologise, Remus pulled the man along. “Let’s get you inside.”

Without any reply or looking up once more, the man in the iron mask let himself be steered towards the door, the rest of them following along just as quickly. The sun that rose on their backs marked the dawn of a new day.

 

~*~

 

Their first stop was Xenophilius’ workshop. Hermione, still distracted by their very first encounter, only figured why when Remus asked the man to sit down in front of an open fireplace, coaxing him to lay his head upon its low stone border. Since they didn’t have a key for the mask, they needed to break it open.

As Remus took the hammer, the man’s breathing accelerated and became erratic. His hands gripped onto the ratty clothes covering his frame, his knuckles white and his muscles taut and quivering with distress. Even though she couldn’t see his face, his fear was so very clear to read.

The yell that followed the first fall of the hammer had her biting her lip. She would not scream, not wanting to make the situation even worse for the poor man.

Looking around quickly, she could tell that Harry, James, and Sirius were all afflicted by the situation and the man’s pain. Yet, it was clear to her that no one would do anything to help. It only took one more strike for her to give in, not able to stand it any longer. Rushing to his side, she took the man’s hand. His nails were dug so deeply into his palm, they were close to drawing blood. The moment she touched him, he shied away, only to grab her hand hard when the next strike came. His eyes were wide and fixed on her, his tears reflecting the light of the fire.

She wasn’t able to look away. She wasn’t able to give him reassuring words or even a soft smile. All she could do was hold his hand and let him hold hers, not flinching even though she was certain he was bruising it.

Three more strikes and the lock finally came loose.

The man still clung to her hand as Remus took away the casing, before finally, carefully and slowly, removing the iron mask itself.

Once more, Hermione bit her lip, this time to suppress a gasp. How long had this man worn the iron mask? How long had he suffered?

Dark brown, almost auburn hair covered his face, long strands running every which way from his scalp and beard. Through all the hair, Hermione could detect something familiar about his features, though it eluded her at the present moment.

Letting go of her hand, the man shakily reached for his face, softly touching it. A sob broke from his lips, his hand flying back to hers, gripping it just as hard as before.

“It’s okay. It will be alright.”

His eyes back on hers, his breathing calmed down. Once she noticed him trying to stand up, Hermione helped him without letting go of his hand. She wanted to steer him to the room they had prepared for him, but he stopped by the trough filled with water. Bracing himself on it, he carefully leaned over the rim.

Hermione was quick to catch him the moment he shied away from his reflection so strongly he stumbled. She wasn’t the only one, James rushing to their side right away. Over the man’s bowed figure, their gazes met. Concern was laced in every facet of James’ face and Hermione could easily understand why. Amongst the Marauders, he was the only one to be a father.

Together, they steered him out of the workshop and up the steps to the quarters. They had chosen a small, cozy room for him, a fire crackling in the fireplace to keep the early morning chill away.

“Here,” James softly ordered, helping him sit down while Hermione got a cup of fresh water.

Handing it to him, she calmly told him to drink, speaking softly in the hope to ease his nerves with a gentle voice. If it had worked, his next move certainly ruined any progress right away. Not used to drinking without his mask, the man misjudged the distance between the cup and his lips, spilling the water over his chin and chest.

James was there right away to catch the cup as the man dropped it, while Hermione focused on the man himself, kneeling beside his chair.

“It’s alright,” she soothed him, using her handkerchief to dab at his chin. “It’s alright.”

Instead of calming down, the man turned his head away. He did not push her away, but he might as well have. It was clear he felt uncomfortable in their presence, most likely overwhelmed by all the events of the night.

Looking up, Hermione found James’ eyes on her. Without having to speak, they knew they shared the same thought. So Hermione got up and hesitantly followed James to the door. She was conflicted, not wanting to leave the man alone but also not wanting to scare him by crowding in.

His voice, deep and rich, made the decision for her.

“I have waited six years to ask this question.”

As they both turned back around, Hermione found his gaze on her again. His eyes were full of hurt and sorrow and it made her heart ache.

“Why was this done to me?”

Hermione turned to James, finding him just as surprised as she was

“You don't know?” he asked. When the man shook his head no, he continued. “What do you remember?”

“I lived in a country house,” the man began, his voice becoming steadier the more he talked. It still sounded raw but it had a warm note to it. “I had guardians. An old woman and a priest. But no friends. Then they took me to the prison.”

“Who?” Hermione questioned, intrigued by this mystery.

“A man in black. I never saw his face. But he took me to the prison and he put me into the mask.”

Hermione wanted to take his hand again, wanted to comfort him. Instead, she kept asking. “And you don't know why?”

“For days I shouted, ‘What have I done?’ Then I realised there was something about my face which had to be hidden.”

Very true. Hermione had come to the same conclusion while comforting the man but she didn’t have time yet to figure out what it could be.

“But I never knew what,” the man concluded.

Certainly, if Remus was so sure this man could help them in getting rid of the King, then he would have to play an important part. He hadn’t yet told them what his plan was, James and Sirius following along simply because they trusted him, and Hermione because she was sure this was her last chance. But… was it possible this man looked so much like Fabian that Remus planned on switching them? That was preposterous.

“What is your name?”

“The old woman called me… Gideon.”

Gideon. What a beautiful name. Strong. Almost… royal.

Hermione pushed this absurd thought away as Luna knocked on the door. She was carrying a towel and scissors, followed by her father with a bowl of steaming water.

“Gideon, this is Luna and her father Xenophilius, our host. They will clean you,” James explained. He must have seen the slight panic flaring up in Gideon’s eyes again, for he added, “They won't harm you.”

Once more their attempt to leave the room was stopped by Gideon speaking up, “Thank you.”

Turning back, Hermione searched for his gaze. It was honest and warm when he elaborated, “Thank you for your kindness.”

 

~*~

 

Tired as most of them were, none of them were able to find any rest. By late morning, they were in the parlour, everyone trying to keep busy. Hermione was reading a book, yet her mind kept drifting back to the mystery of the man in the iron mask. Instead of the words on the pages, her eyes wandered to Harry, deep in conversation with Draco. The young lord had arrived the night before and had slept through this morning’s excitement. It seemed Harry was catching him up - or maybe they were talking about other, more private things. Realising this, Hermione quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to intrude.

She was saved from nervous boredom by the door opening. It had her jump up, ready to greet the man - only to take a step back, stunned by what she saw. There, in simple clothes and slightly crouched, stood none other than the King of France. By the way the room fell silent, everyone was just as shocked and surprised.

Still unable to look away, Hermione’s gaze landed on his eyes and when he looked directly at her, she knew in an instant that this wasn’t Fabian.

It was Gideon.

All eyes fell on Remus, who moved a chair and motioned for the young man to sit down. Hesitantly, Gideon followed the invitation, obviously overwhelmed by the situation. Hermione was sure that he had no idea he was the spitting image of the mightiest man in France, if not all of Europe.

“I was right, then?” Gideon asked, his shy eyes wandering from one to another, finally finding their way back to Hermione. “There’s something wrong with my face?”

“No,” she answered without even thinking. “No, it’s just…” How to explain this? She couldn’t even explain it to herself. How was this possible?

Searching for answers, she turned to Remus. The priest was not only her mentor, and therefore always someone she turned to for advice; but he also seemed to be the only one fully aware of what was going on.

“The greatest mystery of life,” Remus began, sitting down himself, “is who we truly are.”

“Yes,” Gideon agreed.

“I will tell you the secret that was kept from you. It began the night King Fabian was born.”

Oh, Heavens. But of course. Hermione couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. It was the only possible way - and yet so unbelievable it was no wonder she hadn’t considered it. Trying not to let her thoughts run ahead, she focused back on Remus’ words.

“I was on duty. I was summoned to the rear door of the palace. The Queen's priest handed me a baby. She had given birth to twins,” Remus confirmed. “The child I carried was the younger of the two. The King realised he had two heirs. He'd seen brothers tear apart enough kingdoms that he decided to make one disappear. You, Gideon.”

Hermione looked back at the young man. If she’d been sitting closer, she might have taken his hand to comfort him, pain and even more confusion warring on his features.

Remus wasn’t done yet.

“He ordered your identity kept from you. On his deathbed, he revealed the truth to Fabian as well as your sister and your mother. They had been told you died at birth. Your mother blamed herself for believing it and wished to restore your birthright. But now, Fabian was King. He was afraid to kill you, for his claim to power rested on the sanctity of royal blood. So he devised a way to keep you forever hidden.”

Lowering his head as well as his voice, Hermione could tell that Remus had to fight with himself to reveal what he needed to say next.

“For my country, for my king... I bought peace with your life and with my soul. One day, I will ask for your forgiveness.” Looking back up, Remus’ voice grew stronger. “But not until I have restored you to what is yours.”

Gideon asked the question most likely everybody else in the room was thinking as well: “Restored?”

“We will replace Fabian with Gideon.”

“That is your plan?” James burst out. “Exchanging one for the other?”

“It's ludicrous,” Hermione exclaimed, for once too shocked to stick to her respectful tone towards her mentor. What was he thinking?

“It's brilliant. What did you all think we were up to?”

“Revolution, open war,” Harry spoke up, only to be interrupted by Remus.

“Blood in the streets,” he deflected, shaking his head as if they all must see what he already did.

But James backed up his son: “At least it's a change.”

Sirius leaned towards his friend, obviously indignant about this plan. “Remus, seriously. [There are at least seventeen ways this could work better. Honestly. I mean, I’m counting them right now.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/85c269e7f47efdc95ec7b7a6316a755c/c474bc4577300f0d-eb/s400x600/b92b8e6f86ac59fe73c6373f67e76bd36019cedf.jpg)”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Sirius.”

James tried to give some real reasoning: “Physical resemblance is a start, but Fabian's arrogance -”

“- can be adopted.”

“And people close to him?”

“I have considered everything.”

“Have you considered that you not only risk our lives?” Hermione spoke up. “You risk Gideon's as well.”

“And like us, he has a choice,” Remus explained, still calmly. Turning back to Gideon, he talked directly to him. “What about it, Gideon? All those years in prison, were they for nothing?”

Hermione couldn’t believe it, but there indeed was a spark in Gideon’s eyes she hadn’t seen before.

“Or have they given you strength, unlike ordinary men?” Remus continued. “You have the chance to be king if you have the heart to take that chance. Do you have the heart? Do you?”

And for the first time, Hermione could see no shyness in the man’s eyes. Just determination and courage.

“Yes, I do.”

 

~*~

 

Even a few days later, Hermione was still not fully convinced by this plan. Maybe if they had more time…

But Remus wanted them to be ready in three weeks. Three weeks! Fabian would give a splendid masquerade ball and she had to admit that it would be the perfect opportunity for them. A swirl of people, their faces covered.

But three weeks to learn all he would have to know?

Remus’ arguments were valid in some ways: Gideon had been educated as a gentleman for years and between all of them, they might get him ready. It was still a high risk though. Besides her, however, only James was against such a rushed mission. He saw the same issue she did, but then again, it seemed the two of them were the only ones to really care about Gideon as a person, not just as their chess piece.

Seeing how Gideon was fully committed to the plan though, and how it would happen with or without their help, James and Hermione had reluctantly joined in.

So now, Gideon’s days were split between lessons in fencing and riding with Harry, etiquette with Draco, history and current politics with James and Remus, and of course dancing, which was Hermione’s place in all this. She also made sure he would have a profound knowledge of current literature.

What it was that Sirius taught him, with his long talks during their walks around the fields, she had a feeling she’d rather not know. Once Harry asked him while she was close by. Gideon had gone quiet and lowered his head, glancing at her while mumbling about "how to enjoy life." 

 

~*~

 

Used to the loud city that was Paris, and the stir of voices and actions that always seemed to be going on around the palace, Hermione often had a hard time finding rest at the quiet manor. She had taken to evening strolls around the estate, just enough to calm her nerves and distract herself from the quiet.

It was only at these times she let herself think about what all of this would mean for her. When she joined the Marauders in their plan to get rid of Fabian, she’d never anticipated that they meant to replace him. In some ways, this changed a lot for her - she just had no idea how to handle it, let alone tell Gideon about it.

On the fifth night after Gideon had arrived, her musings were interrupted by a strange incident. As she looked up at the manor, she saw Gideon standing at the window, watching her. Or most likely watching her. She couldn’t be sure, for his face was covered again by the iron mask. Was her mind playing tricks on her? But no, this certainly was real. As she took a step towards him, he turned away from the window.

He didn’t look surprised when a few minutes later she knocked on his door, letting herself in. The mask was in his hands, his face calm as he studied it.

“I've worn this mask so long, I’m not really sure how I feel without it.”

“Would you like some company? I can't sleep either,” Hermione offered, taking the other seat in front of the fireplace once he nodded.

Over the past few days, she had come to realise two things. For one, she liked to seek conversations with him. Despite his years in prison and as a reclusive before that, he was intelligent and he had profound knowledge, even if it was outdated in some areas. It seemed, while growing up almost alone at an estate, reading had been his favorite pastime.

The second thing Hermione had come to realise was that Gideon seemed to like conversing with her just as much, sometimes telling her things she was sure he did not tell the others. Maybe it was because she had been there, helping him when he had suffered. It had woven a special bond between them. A bond that allowed him to show her his fears and worries.

“I've been in prison for six years. You and the others… you have freed me. And now we’re planning and working on me entering another prison.”

“A palace is hardly a prison,” Hermione answered, only to rethink her words. “But I think I see what you mean.”

“These past few days… this estate, it resembles the one I grew up in. Wide, open fields, nature. Peace and quiet.”

At that, Hermione had to chuckle, drawing his eyes back to her. For a moment, she was captivated by them, wondering how they could be the same as Fabian’s and yet be so different. Where the King’s were cold, Gideon’s showed nothing but warmth.

She hoped he would never lose this quality.

“Was it funny what I said?”

Pulled back to the present, Hermione shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s just… those evening strolls I take. They help me calm down. I’m not used to all the quiet calm and sometimes, it’s a bit unnerving.”

“You live in the palace then?”

“Yes. I was sent there when I was only eight years old. In some ways, James and his late wife Lily raised me. That’s why Harry and I are so close. He’s like a brother to me, more so than my real brothers.”

“Do you have many?”

“Brothers? Yes. And some sisters, but I hardly remember any of them. I haven’t seen them since I left England.”

At that, Gideon looked back up at her, intrigued. “You’re from England?”

“Well, I was born there. By now, I would count myself more as French than English.”

“But why would your parents send you away?”

Hermione contemplated the question and a possible answer while Gideon put the mask aside, fully turning his attention towards her.

“Well, I was the sixth child of eight. Naturally, as a woman, all I was good for was to marry well.”

She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. This was not the time nor the place to talk about the unjust ways daughters were sold off to the most suitable husbands within the European Monarchy. She often wondered if one day this would change. Certainly not in her lifetime.

“My parents sent me to the court that is the metropole of the monarchy in some ways, and here I am.”

“Your parents must be important people if they could secure you such a high position at the French court.”

Evading Gideon’s gaze, Hermione was glad he didn’t seem to want an answer to his remark, continuing to talk instead. She wasn’t ready yet to reveal the whole truth to him just yet.

“In some ways, we have this in common, don’t we? We’ve both been sent away by our parents. Only, yours did it so you would have a better life. Mine did it…”

Reaching for his hand, Hermione searched for something to say to not have him think such gloomy thoughts.

“Would you like me to tell you about your sister? She’s a dear person,” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes, I think I would like that.”

“Her name is Mary, but everyone close to her calls her Molly. She’s a few years older than you.”

“Does she love her brother?”

There was a note in his tone, something quite fragile, which made her certain that the answer to this question was very important to him. After all, besides the brother that had thrown him into prison, all the family he had left was his older sister. A sister who knew about the secret. It would probably hurt if she would tell him that despite his cruelty, Molly still loved Fabian deeply.

Hermione was glad she could answer honestly. “She used to. They were quite close in younger years, even after her marriage to the young Lord Arthur Weasley. But over the past few years, their relationship has quenched somewhat. No one knew why but now I would hazard a guess.”

His slow exhale confirmed that he was glad about the answer. Even though his sister hadn’t actively searched for or helped him, she at least seemed to disapprove of what had been done to him.

Noises from a chamber down the hallway disturbed their quiet moment, having Hermione become aware of the time as well as the fact that she was in a man’s chambers at such an hour.

“I should go to bed. And so should you,” she added with a mock stern voice. “Lessons will continue in the morning.”

He offered her a soft smile and with a “sleep well”, they parted for the night.

 

~*~

 

“No, wait,” Draco intervened, taking the crystal goblet away from Gideon to show him the right way to hold it. “With a king, it is so: Servants have touched the goblet, so the king touches as little as possible.” He demonstrated this by holding the goblet simply with his thumb and pointer before handing it back. “Again.”

Hermione, while pretending to read her book, watched as Gideon tried to imitate Draco. With little success though, as the goblet slipped from his fingers and burst into tiny pieces on the floor. Right away, Gideon tried to pick it up but Draco stopped him.

“I'm sorry.”

“No,” Draco replied forcefully.

Maybe a tad too harsh, but Hermione could understand his reasons. They had spent a week now trying to tame Gideon’s politeness, as harsh as it sounded.

"Do not be sorry! There are no mistakes when you are king. You never apologise. And you never, ever, pick something up if you have dropped it - because you didn’t, you are the king, therefore it must be someone else’s fault. The king cares for nothing and for no one.”

“Is that the king you wish me to be?”

Putting her book aside, Hermione got up. “Of course we wish you to be a good king, Gideon.”

Maybe she was imagining it, but the moment she spoke and his gaze fell on her, he seemed to relax. The change in him took her breath for just a moment and she had to swallow before she could go on.

“But first you must pass as Fabian, who is cold and cruel. His eyes say he cares only for himself. Your eyes -” _are beautiful and warm_ “- ask too much. They show how much you care.”

“But how am I supposed to care less? How am I supposed to be rude? This is who I am.”

“And we’re not asking you to change this,” Draco promised. “All we need you to do is _pretend_.”

Gideon looked gloomily at his hands, not replying anymore. Hermione could tell he was scolding himself, knowing very well what was at stake and that he would have to play this role for only a night. After that, he would be able to slowly change, gradually accustom people around him as well as his subjects to a nicer, gentler version of the King. To his true self.

Right now though, after a full week of almost no break and lesson after lesson, it simply seemed too much for him.

“I think a break is in order.”

Draco looked at her in surprise. “Hermione, we don’t have time for a break. There’s still so much to learn and -”

“Stop,” she ordered, holding up her hand. “He won’t learn anything if his head is already full and buzzing. Give him a chance to breathe. I promise I’ll bring him back in an hour for the next lesson, refreshed and ready.”

 

~*~

 

“Have you thought about your mask at all these past few days?”

They were walking around the lake, enjoying the last warm rays of the setting sun. For three days now, Gideon had joined her evening walks. In front of the others, she pretended they would use it for talks about the court when really Hermione was making sure he had a break at least once every day. The other day, his pause had done wonders on his psyche, helping him concentrate much more on his next lessons, which had been politics with Remus. That’s why Hermione had added a break to his daily schedule.

Trying to ignore how close his hand was to hers, brushing it every now and then on pure accident, Hermione focused on Gideon’s reply.

“I still take it in hand every evening, remembering that most likely nothing will ever be as bad as going back to wearing it.”

Looking up, she studied his face. Even with all the drilling about acting as cold as Fabian, the warmth in his eyes had never left and Hermione prayed to every God that would listen that his years at court would not change that. But then again, six years in prison hadn’t done it, so maybe the palace wouldn’t either.

Paying too much attention to Gideon and too little on the path, the sensation of falling took her by surprise, the pain in her foot telling her right away that she had stumbled over something. Thankfully, Gideon had quick reflexes, catching her before she could seriously hurt herself.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, steadying herself on his arms that were still holding her.

“You alright?”

“Yes, thank you.”

They were so close. She knew it without really taking it in. She was basically in his arms. A slight move of her head would be enough and she would be able to kiss him.

The thought had her shocked to the core.

Why was she thinking about kissing Gideon? Maybe because his proximity made her nervous? His warmth was alluring and so was the slight fragrance that did not seem to be perfume, but solely Gideon himself.

“Hermione?”

Had his voice always been this deep and sensual?

Most likely she was hallucinating. She needed a distraction.

“Will you tell me about it?” When there was no reply, and most importantly when she was sure she was calmer once more, she dared to look up. “About the mask?”

A dark shadow flit over his features. Nevertheless, he nodded and after making sure she could tread steadily, they continued their walk, Hermione able to calm her breathing fully at last and to concentrate on his words.

“There is not much to tell, really. The first weeks were the worst. My face would itch and all I could do to stop it was to rub my head against the wall to have the rough iron scratch my skin. I have no idea how my face isn’t disfigured and covered in little scars. I must have bled more times than I can count.” Absentmindedly, he brushed his fingers over his cheek, before letting his hand fall back down. “The next worst thing was sleeping. There was no way for me to lay comfortably. My head was constantly aching and throbbing.”

Stopping at a bend of their path, Gideon watched as the sun set, quiet for those few minutes. Not able to take her eyes off of him, Hermione used the time to study the man at her side. She’d come to do that a lot.

“But I think the worst part of it all was prison itself. For it wouldn’t let me see the sky. I haven’t seen the moon or the sun for years.”

She knew she might never fully understand what such imprisonment could do to a person. But looking at Gideon describing his pain she was sure she understood _him_.

 

~*~

 

Later that night, Hermione lay in her bed, wide awake. Her thoughts were all over the place, her mind trying to make sense of her reactions that evening.

Was she attracted to Gideon?

He looked so much like his brother, and yet she could tell the difference without hesitation. She was sure that wouldn’t change even if the two men stood next to each other. Fabian had always been good looking, there was no denying that. It was more his demeanour that was repulsive. Gideon, on the other hand… Gideon’s demeanour was warm and kind, inviting, maybe even enticing. Certainly a great quality to become a King people would look up to.

Turning around, Hermione forced her thoughts back in line. This wasn’t about the mission. This was about her.

About her feelings.

Did she have feelings for Gideon? She hardly knew him but that was hardly an objection. How many books had she read where the lady fell for the hero simply because of his looks or his reputation. At least she’d already spent time with Gideon, had held deep conversations, had suffered and laughed with him.

Thinking about it, she might have to amend her assertion. Maybe she already knew Gideon more than she thought. After all, what was time when it came to knowing a person? People could spend a lifetime together without ever really knowing one another. So who was to say that ten days were not enough?

She knew he was intelligent, a quality she valued above many others. He was funny - certainly not a requirement, but attractive nonetheless. She was sure he was a very loyal person, a virtue that drew her in more than she cared to admit.

Not to forget his deep green eyes and his breathtaking smile. When she closed her eyes, all she saw where those eyes and his smile.

“Oh dear God,” Hermione exclaimed, sitting up and covering her face with her hands.

There really was a good chance she was falling for Gideon Prewett.

 

~*~

 

“What’s this?” Hermione asked, taking the book Gideon was handing her, turning it so she could read the title. “Chrétien’s _Perceval_? Have you read it?”

“Many times,” Gideon replied, joining her at the lake’s bank. “It was my favorite adventure. I mean, what not to like? A hero on a mission and along the way…” He stopped himself, looking at her as if he was studying her reaction. “Along the way he not only finds friends, but he also finds true love.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before Hermione broke it, clearing her throat, but not quite able to suppress her smile. Gideon was reacting in a similar fashion. Maybe he hadn’t planned for it to sound so very much like a flirtation. Or maybe he had. Hermione wished she could study his face without blushing but she was sure it was impossible at this very moment.

Which was why she was glad he moved on.

“Have you read it?”

“Once or twice,” she told him, at long last looking up again. “I much prefer Wolfram’s _Parzival_ , though.”

“You mean the German one?”

When she confirmed this with a nod, she could see how he was intrigued by it, so she continued. “I was blessed with a very good education. One of the perks of living at the palace. I’m not only fluent in French and English, I also speak and read German, Spanish, a little bit of Portuguese, and Italian.”

“Let me guess,” Gideon threw in with a resigned sigh. “So does Fabian.”

Huffing a laugh, she nodded.

“How am I supposed to learn all that in the next ten days?”

“You aren’t. Fabian never speaks any of these languages. He thinks the world revolves around him and France - so all you will ever hear him speak is French.”

“Then why bother learning all these other languages?”

With a conspiratorial smile, she explained: “So he knows when foreign envoys talk about him.”

“Sneaky.” Suddenly, he grinned at her. “Will you tell me something in another language?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I would like to hear it, that's all,” he prompted her. “It doesn’t matter what you say.”

“Alright,” Hermione replied, thinking about it for just a moment before telling him: “Ich glaube, ich verliebe mich in dich.”

_I think I’m falling for you._

She couldn’t believe how liberating it was to finally put it into words, to actually say it out loud and even telling him - even if he hadn’t understood a word she’d said.

“What does that mean?”

Looking at the book still in her hands, Hermione tried to hide her smile while she caressed the cover. Handing it back at last, she evaded his question.

“One day you might know. Because sooner or later, I’ll help you learn all the important languages. But you needn’t worry about it for now.”

“Great,” Gideon replied, a slight joke in his voice. “One problem gone, only nine-hundred left.”

Hermione simply mirrored his melancholy smile and put her hand over his, holding it as she had done the first morning. When their gazes met again, she could read gratitude in his eyes.

Gratitude... and something she thought to be a flame of desire.

 

~*~

 

Try as she might, Hermione knew she was fighting a lost battle. With every passing day, she was less and less able to deny the truth.

She was falling for Gideon.

She was falling, and she wasn’t sure if this was the best or the worst possible direction. Because she wasn’t stupid. Maybe she had no real experience with men, other than a harmless flirtation here and there during banquets. But she’d read about romance enough to know that by now, almost two weeks after his arrival, her growing feelings for Gideon were not one-sided.

In the long run, maybe this would be for the best - but right now? Right now it might be too much of a distraction and that was certainly the last thing Gideon needed.

However, that didn’t change how her heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at her. How heat rose to her cheeks when they shared a secret joke and he would wink at her. How fire ran up and down her veins whenever their hands would brush on accident. How she felt transfixed by his eyes and how she had come to love nothing more than the time of his daily dance lessons. For it was the only time it was acceptable for him to touch her hand. Oh, how she wished a dance could be more intimate than this.

[“Stop that!”](https://66.media.tumblr.com/e8037d7e8f935248f3a0da61634beed0/c474bc4577300f0d-2e/s640x960/4e3ddbe292ef6607e64a07ec7f5cd5c005dae156.jpg)

Hermione looked up, needing a moment to step out of her thoughts and back to the present.

“Stop what?” she asked, turning her attention towards Draco.

“Doing that thing with your face when you’re happy. It’s making me nauseous.”

She hadn’t even noticed she’d been smiling again. This was also a side effect of her growing feelings for Gideon: even though she shouldn’t let it happen, thinking of him alone made her happy. “That thing with my face? You mean… smiling?”

“It’s more than just smiling,” Draco replied, honestly looking as if he was smelling something rotten. They were sitting together on a bank by a meadow, watching Harry and Gideon in a mock fencing duel. It seemed his training from when he had been younger wasn’t lost, for it hadn’t taken long for him to be up to par with Harry.

Draco still kept his eyes on the two men while he continued. “It’s like you’re glowing from the inside. Your face screams _I’m happy, I’m in love -_ ”

“Oh shush, you,” Hermione replied, smacking him lightly. Heat was rising quickly up her neck. She knew she should deny it and yet she simply couldn’t. It was a Herculean task to even try.

Instead, she leaned closer to Draco, whispering: “You mean… the way _you_ look whenever you see Harry and think no one is watching?”

There was no immediate reaction, but she could see his cheeks turn slightly pink. She would rather die than give Harry away or hurt him by outing his lover and Draco was well aware of that. But if he was allowed to voice the unspeakable, so was she.

At long last, Draco cleared his throat. “Most certainly _not_.”

“Oh? You’re saying you aren’t happy to see him, or that you’re not in -”

“Alright, alright. Stop it.”

Knowing when to stop her teasing because Draco wasn’t used to it as much as Harry was, Hermione chuckled, turning back to watching the fencing.

She hadn’t expected the young Lord to continue their conversation.

“Are you still reluctant about this plan?”

With his question, he was able to dampen her mood just a bit. She hadn’t thought about it for the past few days, not directly at least. It was still a worry though. A worry that constantly followed her.

Her silence must have been answer enough for Draco, for he continued. “I can understand why you feel that way. I mean… if I had to watch Harry training to go on such a mission…” Peeling his eyes away from the scene in front of them, he looked directly at Hermione. “I think it would drive me to madness.”

“The rational part of me knows this is the only chance we have. This is the best way, and he’s prepared. But… my heart…”

“Your heart sings another tune,” he finished for her, nodding.

There was something comforting in having someone word her fears where she couldn’t. Someone who seemed to understand her where the others simply couldn’t or wouldn’t.

Smiling softly, she turned back to the lesson.

 

~*~

 

That night, the night before Remus and Sirius were to leave for Paris, to prepare for their arrival in a week’s time, they all had a late dinner together. For the most part, Hermione was distracted, her conversation with Draco still ringing in her head. Gideon’s lessons were going well but he was still far from being perfect, and it would not leave her alone. Not now, after Draco had given her no choice but to face her feelings for this man. There were so many little things that could go wrong, so many variables that she still wasn’t convinced they should go through with it all.

If one little thing went wrong, she might lose Gideon forever.

Picking around her plate, not really able to eat much, Hermione was mulling over everything that still needed to be done to prepare him for his role. It seemed her gloomy mood did not go unnoticed by the others.

“Are you alright, Hermione?”

Looking at Harry, she saw that everybody at the table was staring at her, apparently awaiting her answer. With a deep breath, she put her fork away. There was no use in lying, so she could simply tell them the truth.

“I am. But I’m still worried about our plan. I’m not convinced we should rush this.”

“Why? Gideon is almost ready,” Remus said, but Hermione cut him short.

“He’s not ready and we all know it.”

“You don’t trust in me?”

The hurt in Gideon’s voice was painful for her to hear and she was quick to correct him.

“It’s not about trust. Of course I trust in you. I just… I just think that there’s so much more you still need to learn and -”

This time, Remus interrupted her: “But the ball is our best chance. How much longer do you want to wait?”

“It’s not that I _want_ to wait -”

“If you have a better idea as to an opportunity to do this, please tell us.”

“I don’t, Remus, you know that. But -”

“But?”

She was at a loss for words. Mostly because she knew that all their arguments to go through with this plan rang true. And maybe Gideon was ready - she simply felt it wasn’t enough to get this over safely. Seeking for at least one person on her side, her gaze fell on James. To her shock, he slowly shook his head.

“I’m sorry Hermione. Two weeks ago, I would have agreed with you in everything you said. But Gideon…” He stopped himself, looking at the young man by his side. “He proved that he really wants this. I would have never thought he’d be this far in such a short time.”

For that, Gideon sent him a smile that was a mix of his old shyness and newfound courage. Having James praise him made him proud, she could tell.

James turned back towards her. “I have to agree with Remus now. I think he’s ready. Or he will be when the time comes.”

“But…” She bit her lip, not yet accepting she was fighting a lost battle.

Sirius chose that moment to jump into the conversation - with the worst possible comment he could have chosen.

“Why are you so against it, Hermione? Shouldn’t you be the one wanting Fabian gone the most?”

She sat stock still, all the warmth draining from her face instantly. It only got worse when she saw Gideon peek up, a frown between his eyes.

“What?”

“Sirius, please.”

Looking between the two of them, it seemed to dawn on Sirius that he had opened a door that had stayed locked until this very moment. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you hadn’t told him yet.”

“Sirius!” Harry exclaimed at the same time Gideon asked again. “What?”

When no one reacted, he made his question clearer. “What is it you’re not telling me?” Looking at every single one of them, his gaze finally landed on her. “Hermione? What is it you’re keeping from me?”

It was James, in the end, who said what Hermione simply wasn’t able to, her gaze trained on the folded cloth napkin by her plate.

“Hermione is Fabian’s fiancée.”

Gideon could simply stare at her, apparently lost for words. It took a moment, but in the end, he got up without another word and left the room.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up herself.

“Thank you very much, Sirius,” she bit out as she left the room, knowing very well that it was her own fault for putting this off for much too long.

 

~*~

 

She caught up to Gideon as he reached the lake, just as he started walking down the crooked little path. Before she could say anything, Gideon turned around and confronted her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… I don’t know. I -”

“Did you fear I wouldn’t go through with the plan if I knew?”

“What? No!” Hermione exclaimed, getting upset about his exaggerated rage. “If that were the case, why would I now try to stop you?”

“I don’t know? Guilty conscience?”

“Stop that! Stop it, Gideon. This isn’t you.”

“You don’t know me. And it seems I don’t know you, at all.”

“Gideon, please -”

He interrupted her right away, anger and disgust in every word he spat out.

“What woman plots against her lover before they are even married?”

“Do _not_ call him that! He’s hardly my fiancé, much less my lover.”

“Hardly your fiancé?” he replied, huffing in disbelief. “Was Remus lying then?”

“No. It’s just… This is a political marriage and has nothing to do with love. It’s not Hermione marrying Fabian. It’s an English Princess marrying the King of France, nothing else.”

“Why would he even be interested in you? What _political gain_ could he possibly have?”

Swallowing, Hermione knew there was no reason to keep it from him any longer. “My father was King Charles I of England. King Charles II is my older brother.”

Gideon’s face grew even darker, betrayal written all over it. “God, I really don’t know you at all, do I?”

“Gideon, please. You do know me. This engagement… it is nothing," she tried to explain, pleading. "It was made when I was hardly old enough to walk. It means _nothing_ to me.”

“If it means nothing, then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it means something _now_ ,” she pressed out, her lungs and heart contracting as she spoke the words. 

Close to tears from despair as much as all the rage building up inside of her. Rage about the situation, rage about the accusations. Most importantly, rage about her own feelings she couldn’t put into words. But she had to try.

“All my life, I grew up knowing I would one day marry King Fabian. I liked him when we first met. He was funny and intelligent. But then we grew older and he became colder. And still, I knew I would have to marry him.”

She wasn’t able to suppress a sob, swallowing hard before giving voice to the next part.

“I would have to marry a man who seduces every woman in his vicinity - but who won’t even _look_ at me. I resigned myself to a loveless future, all because I was the daughter of a King who _never_ cared for my happiness as long as my marriage would bring him a good alliance. Now my brother is King, and he’s as bad as yours.”

He averted his eyes at that, clearly affected by her words. But she wasn’t done yet, only just so able to keep the trembling of her voice under control.

“There was never hope for me - until a few weeks ago when Remus offered me just that. He offered me a way out, a hope. He promised me we would get rid of Fabian. So I took my chance and followed him,” she confessed, laughing bitterly. “I took his offer in an instant, without thinking further about it. But I never knew this mission would involve getting myself a new husband.”

His eyes were back on her, some of the anger gone, much to her relief. She held his gaze while continuing.

“So when I saw you… I didn’t know what to think. At first, I didn’t even comprehend the meaning of it all. And by the time I did… I just didn’t know how to tell you. Not out of fear that it would stop you, but out of fear it would give you even more reason.”

“Why?”

“Because I now know that… I would rather live the rest of my life in a loveless marriage, than having to live with the knowledge that my attempt at freedom killed you.”

There was a long, long silence between them, Gideon quite obviously needing time to process all he had heard. Even though it was night time, she could read his face, the full moon reflecting from the lake giving her the light to see him by.

Using the time to calm herself and dry her tears, Hermione witnessed the moment the anger left his features for good. And still, he pondered on. Until at last, he huffed, shaking his head.

“This is all so insane. This world… all of it.”

There was nothing she could reply to this, still unsure if he had forgiven her. Her own thoughts were circling around the fact that, in some ways, she had spelled out her feelings for him.

Reaching for her shaking frame, Gideon pulled her closer. Her heart stopped for a beat, only to restart at twice its normal speed. His next words, however, surprised her.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“It’s all too much for me right now and I feel like I’m going mad. I think it’s the same for you. So… I need a moment, just one moment, without thinking. Over the past two weeks, nothing has calmed me down as much as your presence. So please: [Dance with me and pretend the world doesn’t exist,” he pleaded.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/4c8c3d983a3b5fc573c95a5b29cf33c5/c474bc4577300f0d-bc/s500x750/4a1caf33c847d009a9052464db60cf68d377b769.jpg)

And after that, there was no going back. 

A tiny sob left her throat as Hermione sank into his arms. They would never be able to dance like this at court. But right now, with only the stars and the moon to judge them, she didn’t care. Her head sank against his chest, his warmth engulfing her, calming her down, as he held her in his arms. She let him sway them softly while she clung to him as if he was all that kept her world together.

And by now, maybe he really was.

 

~*~

 

In the morning, Hermione apologised to Remus and Sirius before they left. After that, they went back to work.

The day started with repeating the names of important people at the court before Harry checked Gideon’s posture on a horse during a parade. During and after lunch, Draco tested him on his table manners as if they were at a huge banquet. He excelled in all these tests, much to Hermione’s delight. They still hadn’t talked about her revelation last night, but she had a feeling that they would be okay. If nothing else, it had helped her judge her own thoughts. It was like she had told Draco: her head knew what her heart did not accept. Gideon was ready, and they would go through with this plan.

As evening drew closer, Hermione had to teach him a new dance. All alone with him, it was hard not to think about the way they had held each other the night before.

“Not so close, Gideon. It’s not befitting for court.”

“You didn’t mind last night.”

Closing her eyes to stay strong, Hermione took a big step back.

“That was different and you know it. Now please, concentrate.”

Once again, she counted the cadence, happy as he led her into the first few figures without any problems. All too soon, however, he was much too close to her again. This time, it ended with her in his arms, as he didn’t leave her enough room to twirl correctly.

“Gideon,” she said, her voice not quite sure if she should chide him or give in to being bemused.

It seemed he had detected enough of the latter to feel safe. With a slight movement, he pulled her even closer. His smile was disarming.

And yet, with a deep breath, Hermione was able to stay focused.

“Why are you like this today?”

“Like what?”

“Like… like this. So… affectionate. And openly at that. I mean, after last night, I thought…”

“You thought I would still be mad?”

“Yes,” she admitted. However, she did not resist when he pulled her even closer, just the smallest inch. There was still some room between them, but certainly not as much as etiquette would approve of.

Much to her relief, Gideon grew serious. He wasn’t taking her concerns lightly. He never did. It was one of his qualities she appreciated dearly.

“I stopped being mad at you the moment you explained your reasoning. By the time we danced, I had forgiven you. And by the time we said good night, I came to understand something.”

“What was that?”

Carefully, he cradled her face in his palm. The touch was soft and Hermione instinctively leaned into it, overwhelmed by its warmth and gentleness.

“I realised that in your own way, you’ve been imprisoned as well. And you had to wear your own mask for all these years, staying a strong woman at the side of a terrible man.”

Tears were prickling in her eyes as she heard these words. She knew he was right in some ways, although she would never have dared to compare her own fate to his. Or even to Harry and Draco’s. But it touched her that he had seen right through her. And he didn’t pity her for it.

He saw the strength she had and for that, she loved him even more.

At this moment she wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on hers.

“Oh, Hermione,” he whispered, drawing her in even closer. “You have no idea how much I want to give in to this temptation right now.”

She gasped as his warm breath ghosted over her lips.

[“The problem is,” he said as he leaned in, “if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”](https://66.media.tumblr.com/a9791d0f411c4414401af78acfdca8a6/c474bc4577300f0d-b6/s500x750/38d8d7b57043a1677117c8421247ef8db31e4318.jpg)

For him to be this blunt was certainly not something she had expected, his whispered confession setting her skin ablaze, her heart racing. Her eyes closed without her permission, fire burning in her veins. He was so close, their lips almost touching. She was sure she could already taste them, his breath having her head spinning.

A commotion outside shook Hermione from this dream-like moment the same time Gideon looked up. She pulled back from him, unable to breathe until she had stolen herself away, already moving towards the door before her thoughts could catch up with the situation. It was probably better this way. She had a feeling that she needed to be as far away from this desire as she could be. Even though she was weak in the knees and her head was dizzy, every fibre of her being screaming for her to go back, to stay in his arms forever. There would be a time for this - but now was certainly not it.

It could risk their whole mission.

Therefore, realizing that Remus’ voice was in the middle of the commotion, was a welcomed distraction. It helped her focus on other things. Like the question of what he was doing back so quickly.

The answer threw their whole plan into disarray. Fabian was upset with his current mistress and needed a distraction. The ball would begin in less than twenty hours!

Unable to lose another minute, Hermione focused all her thoughts on packing as quickly as she could. Not even an hour later, two carriages left the manor’s yard for a race through the night, one with Harry and Draco and most of their luggage. The other with James, Remus, Hermione, and Gideon squeezed in tight. Sirius had stayed back in Paris, trying to get his seamstresses to finish all their costumes.

The whole way back to the city, Remus and James tried to give Gideon a few last pointers:

“Remember, Gideon: Nobility is born in the heart.”

“Hold your goblet with two fingers.”

“If you get stuck, just say ‘Continue.’”

Instead of jumping in as well, Hermione mostly stayed quiet, not wanting to overwhelm him. More than anything, she wished she could take his hand. But she wasn’t sure if maybe that would distract him from all the last minute lessons.

That left her with nothing but her own thoughts in between short phases of sleep. And the realisation that she’d almost kissed Gideon. It wasn’t as if this was a bad thing though, right? In the end, if all went as planned, she would marry him after all, not Fabian. But that was _after_. Right now, they needed to stay focused.

As they reached the city limits of Paris, Gideon finally looked at her, his eyes screaming for help. At last, she reached for his hand, squeezing it. He covered her hand with his own, holding her tight. Sending him a reassuring smile, she could see him calming down at least a little bit.

 

~*~

 

The masquerade ball was ostentatious. Thankfully, Sirius’ seamstresses had outdone themselves, all their costumes not only ready but perfectly fitted for the occasion. Hermione kept close to Gideon, knowing that besides the plan, the aspect of seeing his brother and possibly his sister was unnerving to him as well. In an attempt to distract him, she danced with him, satisfied not only that his movements were fluent, but also that her attempt seemed to be working.

All to soon, the King himself entered the dancefloor, a nameless woman by his side. Hermione knew it should bother her, seeing how she was his fiancée. But she simply didn’t care anymore. What was more important was the fact that this signaled the beginning of their work.

Carefully looking around, they could see the others strategically positioned all over the room. Catching Remus’ eyes, his slight nod set their plan in motion.

Taking away their golden masks, they quickly put the iron masks over their faces, covering them again with the golden costume ones. Looking into Gideon’s eyes, she squeezed his hand one last time and when he nodded, they started to dance again, making sure to keep an eye on the King.

Harry was the first one to be seen by Fabian, the vision visibly shaking the King. Looking around, his eyes fell in their direction, Hermione ideally positioned. For just a second, she moved her golden mask away, showing off the iron one to the King. As quick as she had uncovered it, the golden mask was back in place, having her melt into the crowd as Gideon twirled her.

No matter in which direction the King turned and looked, one of them was always there, flashing the iron masks at the right moments. With every twirl, Fabian looked more and more shocked, crazed out. Until finally, he left not only the dance floor but the room as well.

Not waiting any longer, Hermione took Gideon’s hand, pulling him along as she rushed to the secret passageway. The Marauders did the same, while Draco and Harry stayed back. They were more than enough and this way, the two of them could keep an eye on the guards.

It didn’t take them long to reach Fabian’s chambers, the King sprawled out over his bed, breathing heavily. At last, he must have noticed that someone had entered the room. But it was too late: Remus had him knocked out before he could call for the guards.

 

~*~

 

_So far so good_ , Hermione thought, as she helped Gideon straighten Fabian’s costume around his shoulders. He looked every bit the King he could be and his brother never had been.

“Are you alright?”

Hermione looked up from where she was busy buttoning up his jacket. Gideon was frowning, his eyes searching her face. Not wanting to stress him even more, she gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’m nervous. But the plan is working,” she quickly added. “And you look good. I mean, you look like a king.”

“But I don’t feel like one.”

“Yet,” she promised, closing the last button. “You will get used to it soon enough.”

“People will hate me.”

“You only have to pretend to be him tonight. Just one night. By tomorrow, you can be the king you really are and that we all desire.”

Maybe she should have worded this differently because _desire_ clearly seemed to make him think in a different direction.

They were interrupted by Fabian coming to. They had already dressed him in Gideon’s old clothes and putting on the mask was a quick affair. Neither Hermione nor Gideon looked away or had an ounce of pity. He had done this to an innocent man, to his brother no less. Fabian, on the other hand, was hardly innocent. They would throw him into prison, to be fed by a deaf-mute so no one could hear him.

But for now, their plan wasn’t over yet. The hardest part for Gideon was yet to come.

Since the hall was guarded, Hermione let Gideon back the way they came while the Marauders would get rid of Fabian.

As the two of them walked briskly down the corridor, Hermione tried her hardest to keep her nerves in check. She needed to be strong. For the mission, but mostly for Gideon.

Just before they reached the corner to the hallway that would bring him to the grand ballroom, Gideon stopped and turned to Hermione. She could see the panic in his eyes, his hands fiddled slightly with his mask but otherwise, he would appear calm to anyone who did not know him.

“Take a deep breath, you can do this,” she told him, glad that her voice appeared to be calmer than her heart. “You know the plan. Just this night. Just one night.”

Gideon only nodded at her words, his eyes flying from hers to his hands, around the room, and back to hers once more. Seeming to find strength there as his posture relaxed. 

“Just one night,” he finally replied with a deep breath, straightening up as he got into his role.

Stepping closer, Hermione brushed away a wrinkle from his costume only she could see. “Exactly. And in the morning, you order that James, Remus, and Sirius be brought to the palace as your advisors.”

“Right.”

They both knew the plan, they needn’t repeat it. But it calmed her down just as much as she noticed it did to him. There was so much more she wanted to tell him. But it all had time. Just one more night, then their lives would change.

The panic in Gideon’s eyes was still there, but it was muted now, almost negligible. Instead, she could see so much more in them. Passion and fire. She knew he could do this. He was strong and he was kind. He would be the king they had all hoped for - as soon as he had befooled everyone into believing he was Fabian.

Another deep breath, then Gideon turned around and took a few steps.

Hermione could see in his stride that he was sure of himself and what he was doing. Not yet as confident as Fabian would walk, but he would get there, she was sure of it.

Which was why it confused her when suddenly, Gideon stopped, her name on his lips before he had even fully turned around. “Hermione, wait.”

There was no lack of confidence at all as he took those few steps back. Hermione’s heart was beating wildly as she comprehended what he was about to do.

His lips on hers were warm and soft, his hand steady against the back of her head without caging her in. She didn’t hesitate to reciprocate the kiss, sinking against Gideon and into his embrace.

All too soon, the kiss ended, leaving Hermione breathless. For sure, Gideon’s hand on the small of her back was the only thing holding her up.

“I needed to do this while I was still me.”

Gideon’s warm breath ghosted over Hermione’s lips. Giving in to the temptation, she leaned up and stole the kiss she so desperately wanted.

When she finally remembered where they were and what was at stake, she let go of Gideon, only her hand softly caressing his cheek as she looked into his shining green eyes.

The fire was still there, alongside a deep hunger that sent a shiver up and down her back and a curling warmth deep inside of her.

“You will always be Gideon for me.”

The promise touched him, she could see it so clearly. Taking her hand away from his cheek, he gently kissed it before stepping back, only letting go of her when they were too far away from each other to reach. Just before he turned around again, Hermione could see Gideon steel himself, preparing himself once more for his role.

Something was different and when he walked down the long corridor, Hermione could tell what it was. Gideon was believing in himself now, he was confident and sure of himself and their mission.

And so was Hermione, knowing that by tomorrow, the world would be a different one.

 

~*~

 

The prisoner in the iron mask was never found. It was whispered that he received a royal pardon and lived quietly in the country, visited sometimes by the king's sister. Mary’s relationship to her brother, the King of France, grew closer again over time, much to his subjects’ joy.

It came as a shock to some when the King dismissed his council of advisors and instead ordered the legendary Marauders to the palace to replace them, but was soon believed that the new influence was quite good on the young man. The King known as Fabian XIV brought his people food, prosperity, and peace.

He had dismissed his court of mistresses. His wedding to Princess Hermione, sister of Charles II of England, was celebrated in the streets of Paris, the young woman loved by all her subjects, just as their seven children would one day be. It is said to have been a marriage full of love, acceptance, and growth, until the day death came to greet them. By then, the couple had reigned for over fifty long and prosperous years and they would be remembered as the greatest rulers in the history of their nation.

 

**_~ fin ~_ **

**Author's Note:**

> All the love to my wonderful beta [vintagenoise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagenoise) \- not only for being patient with me and brilliant with my texts, but also for usually finding a title for my fics 😂 - and to [ArielSakura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielSakura) for betaing as well and most importantly for giving this story the finishing touch - you ladies are amazing 😍
> 
> Also a big thanks to [xxDustNight88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxDustNight88) for creating this wonderful aesthetic for me - I really love it! The manip of Hermione used in this was created by [JudyDepp](https://www.deviantart.com/judydepp/art/Hermione-Granger-356356838) and can be found on DeviantArt.


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